Under the Bridge (11 page)

“How are you today?”

“Fine.”

“Good. I’m afraid I don’t know you too well.”

With every wrong thing going on right now, I knew this wasn’t a getting-to-know-you meeting. “Why am I here?”

Her smile faltered. She took a breath. “Well, Tate, I wanted to talk to you about a couple of issues.” She said
issues
with a sharp
s
, and it sounded odd. “How are things at home?”

Her pretty-cool status took an immediate dive. “None of your business, thanks.”

She raised her eyebrows, then nodded. “Okay. Well, I just wanted to get in touch with you. You know, see how things were going.”

I sighed. “Ms. Potter, you seem like a nice lady and all, but you can cut it with the bull. This is about my brother, right? Did my mom call?”

Surprised, she sat back in her chair. “I know about your brother, yes, but that’s not what this is all about. And no, your mother didn’t call.” She looked at me for a moment. “It came to my attention that you recently beat up another student.”

I tensed. “It was off-campus.”

“Yes, I know. But since it was reported to me, and his injuries are … obvious, I wanted to talk to you.”

I crossed my arms. “You can’t bust me. Didn’t happen here.”

“I don’t want to bust you.”

“Who told you about it?” I asked.

She looked down at her desk. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, it does,” I said.

She gazed at me. “Why would it matter?”

“Because if Corey came whining to you about it, I’ll kick his ass all over again.”

Her face hardened. “There’s no need to threaten another student.”

I blinked, thinking about what I’d done all night long, and how this place couldn’t care less about my brother. “You know what, Ms. Potter? I don’t really care what you think. You and everybody else here are nothing but hacks pulling a check.” I stared at her. “Are we done?”

“Corey Norton did not report anything to me. And when I questioned him about it, he refused to talk.”

“Good for him. Are we done?”

“Why did you beat him?”

I smiled. “A personal
issue
.”

Silence. She was stumped. “I’m not your enemy, Tate.”

“I don’t think you are. But my problems are mine, and I know how this works.”

“How does it work?”

“School policy says that I can get busted for fighting off-campus if you have a statement. You’re not getting one. And you’re not going to be able to add anything to whatever file you have on me or my brother.”

She nodded, picking up my file and putting it in a desk drawer. “Okay, then. Let’s forget that part. I won’t ask
about it, and I told you I had no intention of getting you in trouble.”

“Then why am I here?”

“I think you are hostile and have anger problems. And that usually stems from other things happening in your life that aren’t so good. I want to help you with those things if I can.”

I smiled, sitting back. “Why? Because you know me so well?”

She continued, unfazed. “Why did you feel the need to use force?”

I shook my head. “You’re not my shrink. Don’t even start.”

She took a breath. “Can I ask you a question, Tate?”

I shrugged. “Nothing has stopped you yet.”

“When you hit him, did it feel good?”

I stood. “We’re done. Bye.”

The cool thing about Under the Bridge is that when it rains, you don’t get wet. With thousands of tons of concrete and steel above your head, you have a good umbrella. Sid sat on the usual wall after school, chewing a wad of beef jerky. He kicked his heels against the brick. “Are you on steroids?”

I dropped my pack. “No.”

“Are you going to beat me up?”

“No.” I shrugged. “In fact, I was called to my counselor’s office today to talk about my feelings of anger,” I said, smirking.

“I figured. That’s why I asked.”

I looked at him. “You figured that I was going to be called down?”

He nodded. “Yeah. After I went and told Ms. Potter you were on the edge of apeshit, she said she’d talk to you.” He held out his bag of dried meat. “Jerky?”

I stared, speechless.

“You said you wouldn’t beat me up. No take-backs.”

I snapped out of beat-Sid-up mode, taking a breath. “Why would you do that, man? I’ve got enough crap to deal with right now, and I don’t need you ratting on me.”

“Yeah, you do need me doing that. But I didn’t rat on you. Ms. Potter is cool. I trust her,” he said.

“Big mistake, Sid.”

“You were right when you got pissed at me. We’re a crew.” He looked at me. “I may be weird and antisocial and all that other stuff, Tate, but I’m not stupid. You’re heading toward some serious shit with Will and your bro and your family, and honestly, I’m afraid about it.”

“Maybe, but you shouldn’t have done that.”

“I did do it. And I’m right. Will is different, man. He’s hard-core, and if you two tangle, it won’t be pretty.”

“I can’t believe you really went there.”

“Just do me a favor, huh? Talk to her. She helped me with some stuff.”

I took a breath, thinking about her question. Did it feel good to hit him? It’d been hounding me all day. “What did she help you with?”

“After Cutter died.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, surprised.

He nodded. “Yes.” He gazed up, staring at the underpass. “Sometimes I was just wishing I could get out, you know? Like him. Just end everything. My dad and his drinking, no money, all that crap. Not like I wanted to actually kill myself, but just
that feeling you get in the morning. Like you really wished you didn’t wake up. Like you could be … nothing.”

“Jesus, Sid, you should have said something.”

He shook his head. “I know what my life is, Tate, but she sort of helped me realize that it wasn’t set in stone. That just because I was born weird and my life sucks in general, it didn’t always have to be that way.”

I smiled. “You are weird.”

“I know. But that’s not bad. Just something to deal with.”

I looked at him. “She really helped you, huh?”

“I guess.”

“Cool. And I’ll think about it. Talking to her and stuff.”

“Good, because I suck at this human stuff.” An awkward moment passed. “Piper tells me you want in on the Invitational.”

I hopped up on the ledge. “Thinking about it. You?”

“Naw. Not a corporate hack.” He slid me a look. “No offense.”

I laughed. “None taken.”

He looked across the street, chewing his beef jerky. “Pipe wants to do it.”

“Yeah.”

“The rules state that first, you need a sponsor. Second, you need a team. At least three people. Teams compete, win or lose, and there’ll also be an individual winner. That person gets a national sponsor.”

“Yeah.”

He nodded. “Get Badger to sponsor us and I’m in.”

“Really?”

A smile lit up his face. “Of course I’m in. We’re a crew, remember?”

I smiled, hitting his shoulder. “You know, Sid, you’re not that bad after all.”

“Don’t get emotional.”

“Sorry. Didn’t think hitting you on the shoulder was emotional.”

He shrugged. “First it’s hitting, then the next thing is you trying to stick your tongue down my throat. I know how things work.”

I laughed. “I’ll just have to keep my feelings to myself. Just always know I want you.”

He hopped from the ledge as Piper crossed the street. “Are we going to skate? I feel a romantic interlude coming on that I’m not too comfortable with.”

As we set our packs on the concrete platform at the edge of the Monster, Corey and his crew showed up, saw us, and sat at the rails. Piper smiled, nodding to them. “Dude looks like a raccoon.”

I threw Sid a look. “Be back in a minute,” I said, heading toward them. Corey saw me coming and stood, the expression on his face uncertain. I lifted my chin at him. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

A moment passed, and I wondered why I was doing what I was doing. I cleared my throat. “How’s the face?”

He didn’t answer.

I sighed. “Listen, Corey, I might think you’re a prick and a bully, but I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

He narrowed his bruised eyes at me. “So?”

I shrugged. “So I shouldn’t have jumped on you so quick.”

He studied me, licking his lips. “This some sort of joke?”

I clenched my jaw. “Take it how you want it, but no, it’s not. And it’s not an apology, either. You’re an asshole. But I shouldn’t have jumped you so quick.”

He blinked, studying my face. “Okay.”

The next day before school, after another evening of pins and needles in the house, I grabbed my board and pack and headed down to room 143. Mrs. Nelson was Indy’s English teacher, and she sat behind her desk talking to a student when I came in. She made eye contact with me as she talked, so I stood to the side for a few minutes until the conversation was over
.

Mrs. Nelson was in her mid-fifties, and though I’d never had her, I’d heard she was hard. She turned to me as the other student left. “May I help you?”

I nodded, stepping to her desk. “I’m Tate Brooks. Indy’s brother. He’s in your class third period.”

Her eyes darkened. “He does occasionally come to my class.”

“He’s suspended right now.”

“I am aware of that.” She smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. More sarcastic than anything. “I suppose you’re here to get his homework?”

“No.” I dug in my pack, ignoring the jab, and took out
“Stealing Home.” “I was wondering if you could read this. He wrote it. I think it’s good.”

She looked at it as I held it out to her. “Is it an assignment? We’re working on essays right now. I believe he has two that have not been turned in. Of course, along with just about every other assignment this semester.”

“No. It’s just something he wrote. A story. He loves writing.”

She didn’t take it. “I’m sorry, Mr. Brooks, but I don’t have time to be entertained with something written by a student who doesn’t care enough to attend my class, let alone complete the assignments I hand out.”

I nodded. “I know, but if you could just … he writes all the time, and I think if you read it, you’d like it.”

She pursed her lips, irritated. “Perhaps your brother should concentrate on what work he does have if he expects to get anywhere useful in his life. He’s welcome to come see me anytime to speak about the matter.”

I tucked “Stealing Home” back in my pack. “Whatever.”

“Excuse me?”

I stared at her. “Fuck you, lady.” Then I left.

“Yeah, I did.”

Ms. Potter looked at me. “Why?”

I looked back at her. I wasn’t about to gush about taking Indy’s story to Mrs. Nelson. “Because she’s a bitch.”

She took a breath. “I talked to Vice Principal Poppe, and she’s agreed to let you out of detention.”

I furrowed my brow. “Why? I told a teacher off.”

“I told her I’d get you to see me instead. For anger-management sessions.”

I laughed. “I’ll take detention.”

“Did you think about my question, Tate?”

I paused, not sure I wanted to get into this. “Yes.”